


then the charm is firm and good

by nclgbt



Series: Lee's Natural Charms and Talismans [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, In All Universes, M/M, Mention of Animal Death, NCT Dream's friendship is next level, Pining, Witches, johnyong are [donghyuck voice] idiots, lots of it!, nahyuck are beautiful sunshine boys, ngl this fic is very gen but they also love each other!!! so there!!!, they're best friends brad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 19:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nclgbt/pseuds/nclgbt
Summary: Donghyuck knows he's being selfish, wanting to keep this part of Jaemin as it is - as it always has been.But change is inevitable, in life as it is in magic.





	then the charm is firm and good

**Author's Note:**

> it seems fitting that my first published fic after many years would be about witches and also be nct dream-centric.
> 
> if you're worried about the tagged animal death it's quite brief and it's not anyone's pet - it's mentioned in the final half of the fic.
> 
> thanks to [pratu](https://twitter.com/ongsteilations) for being my cheerleader and dreamies hype man even though you refuse to fully get into nct until february 2019 [johnny voice] i'll hold you to that, bro
> 
> enjoy!

Donghyuck has always thought (or hoped, or wished) that of all his friends, there would be at least one person who wasn’t like him. It isn’t as if he hates or rejects his background - in fact, he had taken to magic like a fish to water. It is undeniably what he was born to do.

But.

Magic is known to be all-consuming. For witches like Donghyuck and his brother, Taeyong, there is no escaping its influence. It is in Taeyong’s nature to adapt his surroundings to his innate abilities - everything he touches turns to magic, _literally_. First, the kitchen in their family home when Taeyong was five and Donghyuck newborn, the fabric of reality molding around Taeyong’s adolescent fingers to protect him and his baby brother (an appropriate starting point for a kitchen witch). Then, the meals Taeyong made for himself and Donghyuck when their parents left for work too early to pack lunch boxes for their sons to take to school, bringing Donghyuck not just nourishment but happiness, luck. And now, for the last five years, Taeyong’s prodigal, powerful magic has woven itself into the very foundations of their building, heaving and simmering with its own life.

_Lee’s Natural Charms and Talismans_ is, for lack of better word, Taeyong’s baby. The business that Taeyong had built since he was eighteen was quickly becoming the most reliable and sought-after service for magical remedies, potions and amulets. The shop is Taeyong’s greatest achievement, second only to watching Donghyuck grow up into a powerful witch of his own.

It was perhaps Fate’s greatest gift to the Lee brothers, granting Donghyuck powers so fine-tuned to nature. As a garden witch, the herbs and flowers that Donghyuck grows make Taeyong’s cures and curses and spells all the more powerful. And while Donghyuck’s safe haven would forever be his garden, tucked away behind the building and behind layers and layers of shield charms, he can’t deny that sometimes, he just wants the opportunity to separate himself from it all.

 

 

 

It’s only seven o’clock on Saturday morning when Donghyuck wakes up, hours before his safety alarm of one in the afternoon. He groans and tosses and curses before swinging his legs out of bed, sliding his feet into his slippers. The cat curled around his pillow yowls at him in displeasure, but Donghyuck ignores it, padding across the room to open his curtains. As the winter sunlight hits his skin, all the negative energy coiled at the base of his spine dissipates - after all, he was born to wake up with the sun.

“Move,” he croaks at the cat, nudging it with his hand when he moves back towards the bed. He rolls his eyes when he’s met with a peak of pink tongue. “I need to make my bed. Go lie on the chair or something.”

The cat opens one wide, yellow eye - a moon on an inky midnight backdrop. Its gaze is nothing but defiant, and Donghyuck decides then that he’s not about to be bullied by a _cat_ , of all things.

It’s not even his familiar.

“Alright,” he says, lifting the cat into his arms. Contrary to the expected clawing and scratching, the cat simply burrows into the fleecy fabric of Donghyuck’s pyjamas, purring like a motorcycle engine.

“You are so annoying,” Donghyuck says affectionately, pressing the pads of his forefingers between the cat’s ears. He places it back down onto his desk chair, and its eyes slide shut again, intent on getting more sleep.

Donghyuck turns again to his bed, and starts to fluff up his pillows. Though this is easily a task that could be left to magic, Donghyuck likes the mundane aspect of it - especially when he’s free from any sort of rush. He likes pressing the creases out of the duvet, folding down the edges like they had in the hotel that he had once visited with his parents, when they had to go to Tokyo for work. Taeyong hadn’t gone with them. It was the year before the two of them moved to Seoul.

Though it’s warm in his bedroom, the frost on Donghyuck’s windows reminds him just how cold the city is in the winter. He runs a hand across the vines growing across his window sill, leaves bright green and heart-shaped in the micro-climate he had created for them. His herbs sit in neat rows on his window seat, the cushion long since removed to make room for the pots and trays of rosemary, purple basil, white sage. Donghyuck sings good morning to the rose that sits next to his mirror as he passes, and it blooms even brighter in reply. It’s not happy in its pot, he can tell, but he had to take it inside before the cold really set in - it’s still a baby after all. His tillandsias sway from the glass holders that Renjun had bought him for his birthday, and he can hear them chitter at each other as their long tendrils curl in the air.

Donghyuck changes quickly, tugging his thermals on, then his turtleneck, then his jumper, then his jeans, swapping his fluffy slippers for woolen socks and his bathrobe for his velvet maroon bomber. He and Jaemin had found it at a second-hand store last year when Donghyuck’s hair was red, and Jaemin had laughed so hard at how the shades clashed that Donghyuck hadn’t thought twice about buying it.

Taking one last look in the mirror and ruffling his hair (his rose cooing in approval) Donghyuck slips out of his room, shutting the door quietly so as to not wake the cat snoring on his chair. He can hear murmured words floating up the backstairs as he makes his way down to the kitchen, and he isn’t surprised in the slightest to see Johnny Suh sat at the kitchen island, cup of coffee in hand, as if he lived there.

“Hyuckie!” Johnny says happily, lifting an arm to let Donghyuck tuck himself into his side. Johnny always smells nice, comforting, and his coat is warm where it presses against Donghyuck’s cheek. At least it wasn’t a mystery as to why his brother liked Johnny so much.

“You’re up early,” says a voice from behind them, and a familiar hand comes to rest on the curve of Donghyuck’s head. “The sun,” Donghyuck says in explanation as he turns towards Taeyong, who presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Have some breakfast, I made toast,” Taeyong says, pulling a plate across the island towards Donghyuck, and pressing him into the seat next to Johnny. “Do you want a drink?”

“Tea, please” Donghyuck says, already crunching into his breakfast, trying not to spray crumbs everywhere. It doesn’t work, and he’s glad Taeyong has his back turned as he hastily wipes the surface, though he’s sure that Taeyong can sense the mess anyway. Johnny hides a laugh behind his mug ( _his_ mug, the one that has _Youngho_ _♡_ painted across it and oh, _why_ hasn’t he just _moved in_ already) and Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his glare as Taeyong places his own mug in front of him.

“Don’t be rude to Johnny,” he chides, his gaze disgustingly, unbearably sweet but not quite looking at the man in question and oh yeah, _that’s_ why Johnny hasn’t moved in - because Donghyuck’s brother is an idiot.

“I’m not!” cries Donghyuck just as Johnny says “yeah, kid,” and earns himself another glare. Donghyuck busies himself with the tea bag before Taeyong can say anything else, sniffing at the drink before taking a tentative sip.

Taeyong watches him from the other side of the island, eyes wide. “It’s new,” he says, gauging Donghyuck’s reaction. “Johnny got it for you last night.”

“It’s really good,” Donghyuck hums, receiving twin beaming expressions from Johnny and Taeyong and he’s suddenly transported to when he just woke up, standing in full glare of the sun’s rays in front of his window. He hugs Johnny again in thanks and turns back to his cup, appreciating the harmony of flavours and the steam curling up to his nose and the warmth pressed against his palms. His eyes slip shut in focus as he drowns out Taeyong and Johnny’s quiet conversation with the sound of liquid swishing against the porcelain and the thrumming of his magic under his skin and his layers of warmth like an old friend.

Donghyuck’s meditation is rudely interrupted by a startlingly loud laugh from Taeyong, who has a hand pressed against his mouth as Donghyuck slowly opens his eyes in annoyance. Taeyong’s other hand is resting against the counter, fingers centimetres away from Johnny’s own. Neither of them are looking at him. The temperature of the room feels too high, the walls of the kitchen almost humming with pleased energy. Suddenly, Donghyuck no longer wants to be in the same space as them anymore.

Draining the last of his tea, Donghyuck slips his phone out of his pocket and is pleased to see notifications from the one person he wants to see right now.

“Hey,” he says, sliding off the barstool. “I’m off.”

“Where are you going?” Taeyong asks. “Will you be back for lunch?”

“Probably not,” Donghyuck says, spinning around in a lazy circle as he walks away. “I’m going to Jaemin’s.”

Taeyong shoots him a pleased smile. “Invite him over for dinner then, if he’s not busy. And wear a scarf!”

“‘Kay!” Donghyuck shouts over his shoulder, snagging the first scarf he sees hanging on the hooks Johnny had stuck onto their wall two years ago. He’s not sure whose it is. He bends to tug his boots on, enjoying the crackle of the velcro that Renjun had teased him mercilessly about as he readjusts the straps. “I’ll text you! Bye Johnny!” he says before the door slams shut behind him and he’s standing in their shop.

“Geez, alright,” Donghyuck says to the door. “Anyone would think you’d want me out of here.”

The old cash register chimes at him in response, and Donghyuck grins. Taeyong doesn’t really have a need for it, rarely takes payment in money anyway. It’s something Johnny found at a yard sale in America and brought over - purely decorative, sitting on the shop counter for four years, unused. Taeyong loves it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck mutters, as he pushes the shop door open, steps over the line of herbs and salt. “I’ll give them their privacy.”

 

 

 

Donghyuck walks through Seoul with his hands tucked deep into his pockets, fists curled around the hot packets Taeyong had made in bulk just as the weather started turning cold. He had used shreds of dried ginger to stuff the fabric pockets with portable heat, and Donghyuck remembers how Taeyong had whispered memories of warmer months as his hands moved deftly with the sewing machine, soft and meticulous and hopeful. The brothers were born in the summer, and have a skill for leaving summer magic behind wherever they go. He tucks his head down towards his chest against the biting wind, burying the lower half of his face in his scarf. Despite the cold, Donghyuck is glad that Jaemin lives close enough that he doesn’t have to get the subway. He’s not sure he can handle the oily air, the contrast between the freezing outdoors and sweltering train car, the sheer number of people.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the house where Jaemin lives with his grandparents. It’s an old fashioned bungalow, and it makes Donghyuck think of old movies, like he’ll step through the door and see only in black and white. He shakes his head of the thought, knocks on the screen door, and waits.

The inner door swings open, and Na Jaemin’s shining face smiles down at him as he eagerly unlocks the screen door to let Donghyuck in.

“Hyuckie!” he cries, leaping out into the cold and into Donghyuck’s arms. Jaemin is taller than Donghyuck but frailer, and Donghyuck wraps his arms around him in greeting before he’s pulled into the warmth.

“My grandparents are out,” Jaemin says as Donghyuck tugs off his boots. He’s glad it hasn’t snowed yet - Jaemin’s house doesn’t have a very large entrance, he’d hate to track slush all over it. “Hey,” Jaemin says, smirking. “Cute shoes.”

“You and Injunnie can piss right off,” Donghyuck says, scowling as Jaemin laughed his incredible laugh. “You have any tea?”

“I’ll put the kettle on. You know, I told you that jacket would look so much better without the red hair.”

Jaemin and Donghyuck have known each other for five years. It wasn’t even a week after the brothers moved to Seoul before Jaemin’s grandmother had come to their shop, asking for a charm, an amulet, a potion, anything to help her grandson’s back.

The shop hadn’t been set up properly, they didn’t even have Johnny with them then, and its energy was all misaligned. But when Donghyuck saw the twelve year old Jaemin, just days shy of his thirteenth birthday and grimacing with every step, catnip and basil and peppermint burst from the barren soil beneath his fingers. Taeyong fashioned healing spells from Donghyuck’s herbs and crystals that sprung up from the concrete sidewalk in front of the shop to be used in tandem with Jaemin’s physical therapy. He collected a small rodent’s skull in payment, and it disgusted Donghyuck at first.

“Your magic is so saturated with life,” Taeyong had said, when Donghyuck had insisted that he refuse the payment instead, “that you forget that death is its companion. You’re just thirteen, so I get it. Death scares me too, but can’t you see the beauty in this gift as well?”

“It’s a _dead rat_ ,” Donghyuck had said, but it soon became one of the less peculiar payments the brothers received during the course of their business, and that winter Taeyong had crushed it to create a potion for that year’s strain of flu.

Donghyuck likes Jaemin’s house, likes the quietness of it. Jaemin himself is not quiet by any means, but the house is. Its walls don’t hum like the Lee flat’s, the kitchen doesn’t shift and grow and shrink (sometimes helpfully, but usually mischievously), the doors don’t have a security system of their own that is weather-dependant (Donghyuck _knows_ that nobody likes getting rain on the floorboards but he doesn’t like being stuck in a downpour either).

Though he wouldn’t trade his magic, his life with his brother, his garden, for the world, sometimes it’s just nice to sit on Jaemin’s floor, away from the buzz of it all. The only thing magical in Jaemin’s house besides Donghyuck is the wooden box that houses four years’ worth of healing charms that sits on Jaemin’s grandmother’s cabinet - and even those are so weak with age that they’re basically silent. Jaemin hasn’t needed a new spell in over a year now.

Donghyuck and Taeyong have always speculated that Jaemin was like Johnny. Most humans take a while to get used to spells, to integrate magic into their daily routines, unless they had an affinity for it. Sometimes there were side-effects - headaches, fatigue - and some people were so naturally averse to magic that they couldn’t even see the shop, and had to find Johnny to act as messenger instead if they needed something from Taeyong. Jaemin was none of those things. He had responded miraculously to Taeyong’s spells, and could spend hours in Donghyuck’s room with the others without becoming overwhelmed - he was the perfect middle-ground.

“Here’s your tea,” Jaemin sings as he returns to the living room, balancing two large mugs and a plate of cookies on a tray. “And coffee for me,” he says with a flourish as he sets the tray on the coffee table and sits next to Donghyuck on the floor. “Grandma made cookies, she thought you’d like them.”

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says, reaching for the gooey, chocolatey goodness. “Did you tell her I was coming? You sure she can’t tell the future?”

Jaemin laughs his big, familiar laugh, all teeth. “What, like Mark? If my grandma’s a witch, what would that make me?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “A witch’s grandson,” he says.

Jaemin doesn’t laugh this time, taking a long sip of his coffee. The steam curls around his face like a flower in the hot air. “I suppose you’re right,” he says eventually, tilting his head at Donghyuck. “Hey, did you even want to do anything today?”

Donghyuck giggles at him. “You’re the one who invited me over!” he says, shoving Jaemin’s shoulder lightly. Jaemin gasps dramatically in reply, clutching at his upper arm. “So rude to your host!” he cries, and Donghyuck shoves him again.

“Why were you up before eight, anyway?” Donghyuck asks, and Jaemin stills from where he had started rolling to the ground in a show of pain. He props himself up and catches Donghyuck in a stare with his wide eyes and long, long eyelashes and Donghyuck can see the light streaming through the window and if he wanted, he could count the specks of dust glittering above Jaemin’s freshly-dyed hair and-

“You know, just thinking about doing nothing. Preferably with you.”

And there’s not much Donghyuck can really say to that.

“Oh,” is what he does say, and Jaemin seems satisfied with his reply, if his smirk is anything to go by.

“So let’s just do that,” Jaemin says out of the corner of his mouth as he brings his mug to his lips again and it’s so characteristically _him_ that Donghyuck has to hide his expression behind his own mug as well.

 

 

 

Donghyuck is woken up by a gentle shake to his shoulder, then a plushie colliding with his face.

He jolts upright from where he was hanging off the edge of Jaemin’s futon, dropping to the ground with a thump. Next to him, Jaemin cackles.

Donghyuck rubs the sleep from the corners of his eyes as Jaemin waves his phone in his face. He can never tell if he likes naps or hates them. The flat is always too noisy in the day for him to sleep, only in the evenings did a hush fall over the wood and concrete and brick to lull the brothers to sleep, so he can’t say he has much experience in the field. But Donghyuck _did_ love napping at Jaemin’s, a bubble of calm in an otherwise inescapable community of magic. The flat is like a magical white noise machine, but the Na bungalow is like a countryside retreat - and Jaemin’s the bird that wakes everyone up with its screeching.

“Are you reading this?” Jaemin asks loudly, and Donghyuck lets his expression answer Jaemin for him. Jaemin heaves a sigh, pressing into Donghyuck’s side as he points at the cracked screen on his phone.

“It’s Jeno,” Jaemin explains. “He texted that Mark finally arrived back for winter break. Or at least, he’s finally emerged from the nap he took immediately after coming back home. Everyone’s going for hotpot to celebrate, so put your boots on, velcro boy!”

Donghyuck groans. He had texted Mark a safe flight the day before yesterday, and promptly forgot that he was coming home. As he follows Jaemin out of his room and towards the door, Donghyuck wonders idly if his tiredness that afternoon was a result of Mark being back. Mark did tend to unintentionally project his feelings when he was readjusting to a different environment, and his powers have a particularly powerful reach.

Putting on his coat and shoes, Donghyuck closes his eyes to breathe in the still winter air of Jaemin’s house. As he inhales, he feels the breath travel through him to calm the nerves in the tips of his fingers and the soles of his feet. He breathes out, and opens his eyes to see Jaemin looking at him intently.

“It’s so cool how you do that,” Jaemin says, and Donghyuck sucks his lips into his mouth, a nervous habit.

“It’s nothing,” he says, smoothing out the velvet of his jacket in embarrassment.

“It’s not nothing,” Jaemin says, bending down to tie the laces of his sneakers. He has a pair of pastel pink earmuffs on - clashing terribly with the irregular blonde-pink of his hair. “I couldn’t do it,” he laughs, looking up at Donghyuck and shaking his head. “It’s too noisy in here.”

Donghyuck has to laugh with him. _If only he knew_ , he thinks, biting down on his grin.

Jaemin jumps to his feet, taking hold of Donghyuck’s elbow and leans into his side. “All done!” Jaemin says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“You’re going to be cold,” Donghyuck tuts, reaching behind Jaemin’s head to grab the green and grey scarf that Chenle had bought Jaemin for secret santa last Christmas. Donghyuck winds it around Jaemin’s neck until he’s satisfied with its positioning, then digs into his pockets for his heat packs.

Donghyuck holds them between his palms for a moment and thinks of the beach. Then, he places them in the pockets of Jaemin’s coat, grabbing Jaemin’s wrists to shove his hands in as well.

“There,” Donghyuck says proudly. “For the idiot who has lived in Seoul most of his life and still doesn’t wear gloves in the winter.”

“You don’t wear them either!” Jaemin retorts, but pulls his shoulders up to his ears and wriggles in happiness and warmth. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

The two of them step out of their timeless bubble and into the afternoon, the beating sun doing nothing to dispel the cold that seeps up their body from ground. They huddle together for warmth, shoulders bumping, as they walk through the winding Seoul streets to the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet the others. They don’t really talk, blowing puffs of dragon’s breath into the frozen air.

The streets are overflowing with people, bumping into the duo as they make their way towards the busier parts of town - Seoul is still Seoul, after all, even in winter. Donghyuck is a bit underdressed, most people in woolen pea coats or those trendy black puffers that are so long they swish against the floor, but he feels comfortable in his layers. He’s sure that Taeyong had snuck into his room and cast a warming spell over his entire closet anyway.

Donghyuck hears their friends before he sees them, the wind carrying Chenle and Jeno’s laughter over the crowd. Donghyuck wraps his hand around Jaemin’s elbow and pulls, tugging him through the throng of people until they stop in front of the Chinese restaurant.

Donghyuck lets go of Jaemin to launch himself into Mark’s arms, deliberately throwing his weight in an attempt to knock his best friend off his feet. Mark stumbles and curses, but laughs as he swings Donghyuck from side to side, newly cropped dark hair tickling the side of his face.

“And here I thought,” Donghyuck begins dramatically, tilting his head back with a hand against his forehead, “that our Mark Lee had left us forever. Abandoned us for his Lucases, his Jeffreys, singing _Oh, Canada_ everyday instead of texting the group chat -”

Mark lets go of Donghyuck (though Donghyuck can’t say it was sudden, he was kind of expecting it), who stumbles and falls until Jeno catches him, face scrunched up in laughter. Jaemin takes this opportunity to hug Mark instead, snuggling into him. Mark jumps back as Jaemin chases him for a kiss, and Donghyuck watches their goose chase with an arm around Jeno’s shoulder.

“Did you sleep well?” Donghyuck smirks at Jeno, who beams in response. He nuzzles his dark head against Haechan’s blonde locks. “It was alright,” he says, “some asshole kept on waking me up though.”

“What were you even doing in my room if you knew your brother was back?” Donghyuck asks, as Renjun intervenes to save Mark, before chasing him with a kiss of his own.

“You know how he can get,” Jeno says, but his voice is fond. “Don’t think he slept at all on the plane because he didn’t want anything weird to happen. He was so exhausted he started sleep talking in the taxi back. We kept on having to wake him up in case he said some spell to turn the driver into a dog or something. So when he passed out Doyoung went to Zeus’ and I came to yours. Bongsik watched over him though.”

“Poor cat,” is all Donghyuck can say before Renjun gets tired of teasing Mark and starts to usher them inside. The steaming interior of the hotpot restaurant is deliciously familiar to the group, being one of their favourite places for celebrations and birthdays. The bored waiter shows them to their usual table in the corner, far away enough from other patrons that they can talk freely, but close enough to the dipping sauce station that Chenle doesn’t complain.

Donghyuck slides into the booth next to Mark, and Jaemin sits opposite him, sitting in between Renjun and Jeno. Chenle insists on sitting on the outermost seat, already prepared for the two, three, four servings of sauce that he’s undoubtedly going to consume throughout the evening. Jisung hides behind Jeno on the other side as Jaemin tries to reach over to pinch his cheeks. Mark follows Donghyuck’s gaze and shoots him the most shit-eating grin he can muster. Donghyuck wants to hit him.

“Don’t,” he says, lifting a finger to Mark’s face, “even start. I’ve driven you out of the continent before and I’ll do it again.”

Mark shrugs, pursing his lips. He looks too young to be a university student, Donghyuck thinks suddenly, too young to have so much spiritual pressure on his shoulders and in his head and to be so far away from his home.

“You’re not a mind-reader, Hyuckie,” Mark quips, nudging Donghyuck’s shoulder with his own as Renjun and Chenle order for them. “I was just going to ask - how’re Taeyong and Johnny?”

Donghyuck groans, pressing his forehead into the edge of the table. “They’re so stupid,” Donghyuck says when Mark pulls him back upright, away from the broth starting to bubble in the hotpot. “Johnny comes over at dawn and doesn’t leave until ten, every day - even when he’s not working. Taeyong has been making so many protective talismans for when Johnny has to walk home in the dark and he’s stuffing them full of asters and ragweed and it’s not even _subtle_ anymore, Mark. He’s making me bloom daffodils in _winter_ for him!”

Mark is silent for a moment, and Donghyuck huffs irritably. Mark cannot have not expected this outburst. He’s seen what it’s like in Donghyuck’s kitchen - even if the last time he was there was three months and a different country ago.

“You’re stupid too,” Mark says finally, and Donghyuck squawks and he does hit him, this time. Mark tries to grab his ear in retaliation and the pair of them shove into Chenle, who whines at them around the noodles he had stuffed in his mouth.

Renjun and Jaemin both yell at them to stop, Jaemin telling Chenle he’s going to choke if he tries to eat any more and Renjun holding his chopsticks threateningly at Mark and Donghyuck. Renjun fills two bowls with food and places them before the boys with enough passive-aggressive energy that anyone would think that he’d been living under Doyoung’s roof in Mark’s absence.

Jeno, who has been living under Doyoung’s roof, just wags his finger at them teasingly. He seems to have abandoned his position as Jisung’s human shield, and Jaemin has his fingers pressed to the youngest’s cheeks, despite his loud protests. _Cute_ , Donghyuck thinks, before turning back to Mark.

“What do you mean, I’m stupid too?” he asks, scowling, stabbing at the tofu Renjun had fished out for him. “We were talking about my brother, not me.”

“Yeah,” Mark says, chewing slowly. “Is his situation not analogous to your own?”

“ _Why_ are we speaking in analogies?” Donghyuck asks, but his cheeks are starting to colour. He blames the heat of the restaurant. And the spiciness of the soup in his bowl. And Jaemin grinning at Chenle from across the table. And Mark Lee, for being the real idiot here.

A foot prods at Donghyuck’s leg under the table, and he looks up to see Jaemin looking at him, his smile a little smaller. “You okay?” he mouths, and Donghyuck has to swallow before he nods in reply. Jaemin tilts his head in satisfaction, and leaves his foot to rest on Donghyuck’s crossed ankles.

“Footsie?” Mark hisses at Donghyuck, but it’s loud enough for Jaemin to hear.

“Don’t be jealous, Mark,” Jaemin says, resting his chin on his palm as Jeno laughs at Mark’s bewildered face, and Donghyuck tilts his head towards the ceiling to curse whatever spirit granted him the misfortune of having Mark Lee as his best friend.

 

 

 

It’s already dark by the time they leave the restaurant, stomachs full and cheeks warm, and Jisung whines that they can’t go home _now_ , not when they haven’t seen Mark in forever.

Mark coos at Jisung, squishing his palms to his face and calls him cute. It’s very Jaemin-like behaviour, and it’s a clear sign that Mark _has_ been away for ages, since he’s forgotten that Jisung is a demon who likes to shift into reptiles and hide in Donghyuck’s clothes.

Thanks to Renjun, the biting winter wind doesn’t seem to reach them as they walk down to the subway station to drop Jeno, Mark and Jisung off. Jisung hadn’t managed to convince Mark to stay out longer, and his protests died in his throat as Mark started yawning, sending white clouds into the air. Streetlights cast ghostly spotlights over the ground every few metres, and the crescent moon grins its eery light from above.

“Feels like it’s going to rain tomorrow,” Chenle says into the quiet. “Or snow. Probably snow.”

“Do you have ESPN or something?” Donghyuck says, and Jaemin and Jeno both punch his arms.

“It was snowing when I left Canada,” Mark says from where he’s bringing up the rear. “My flight was almost cancelled.”

“Well we’re glad you’re here with us,” Renjun replies. “Even if you didn’t bring us presents.”

“No presents no friendship” Donghyuck whines as he skips down the hill, but he’s tugged to a stop by Jaemin.

“Mark?” Jaemin asks, concern lacing his voice as he stares behind him.

Everyone has turned to look at Mark now, but his eyes are unseeing behind his glasses. The air between them feels like it’s dropped several degrees in the last few seconds. He lifts a gloved hand and points.

Donghyuck moves to walk back towards Mark, but Jaemin’s hand tightens around his arm. Donghyuck looks at him questioningly, but whatever he wanted to say dies in his throat as he sees the fear in Jaemin’s eyes. He turns quickly to look at what Jaemin has seen, and at the end of his gaze is a furry lump on the floor, under the shadow of a streetlight, right where Mark is pointing.

“Jesus,” Donghyuck breathes, as his eyes adjust to the light and he can make out a snout, ears, the ruddy colour of the fox’s coat, tinted with frost. He presses a hand to Jaemin’s cheek and tries to turn his face away. “Jaemin, don’t look at it.”

“Go towards it,” Mark says, his voice louder now, though he still hasn’t moved. Chenle’s eyes are wide and his hands shake as he grips Renjun’s and Jisung’s coats. Jeno has turned away from the fox completely.

“Are you crazy?” Donghyuck says, whirling towards Mark. “We need to get out of here, not go near it. Call animal services if you’re that concerned but it’s _dead_ , Mark, I can feel it.”

Mark doesn’t look at Donghyuck. “Jaemin,” he says. His mouth doesn’t move. “Go towards it.”

“No,” Donghyuck and Renjun say. “No!” Donghyuck says again as he sees the hesitation in Jaemin’s eyes. “This is ridiculous. Let’s go. Jeno, get Mark-”

“I have to,” Jaemin says suddenly, his voice hoarse. He’s still staring at the fox. He lets go of Donghyuck’s arm and Donghyuck panics, reaching for his hand.

“ _No_ ,” Donghyuck says, “you don’t. Just because Mark says something-”

“This isn’t about Mark, Hyuck,” Jaemin says, extracting his fingers from Donghyuck’s own. Then, faster than Donghyuck can think, Jaemin strides towards the animal and crouches down. His figure casts a long shadow across the floor, and Donghyuck can’t breathe.

“Touch it,” Mark’s voice says again and Donghyuck curls his hands into fists. He whips around to shake Mark out of his whatever-is-happening but Jeno is already there, brow furrowed as he presses his hands against his brother’s temples.

So he turns back to Jaemin - beautiful, human Jaemin, whose hand is hovering over the back of the fox. He looks up, just for a second, to meet Donghyuck’s eyes before he lowers his hand and Donghyuck knows what’s coming, he _knows_ and he can’t stop the broken “no” from slipping out his mouth and under Jaemin’s hand, the fox jolts alive and Donghyuck’s heart breaks.

The fox gives a yelp and, as if breaking out of a trance, Jaemin falls back onto the floor in shock. Behind Donghyuck, Chenle and Renjun are whispering furiously in Mandarin, Jisung sandwiched between them. The fox rises to its legs and in a second it’s gone, not even leaving behind a patch of warmth on the frosty floor.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Jaemin breathes and on instinct, Donghyuck is moving towards him, gathering him in his arms and stroking a hand over his hair. Jaemin’s breath is coming in heaves and pants and he’s staring at his hand as if it isn’t his and oh, Donghyuck remembers the first time he made his mother’s cut flowers bloom just by looking at them but he doesn’t remember being this _scared_.

“It’ll be okay,” Donghyuck whispers to him, a mantra as Jaemin rocks back and forth.

“It _will_ be okay,” says Mark, who is leaning heavily against Jeno. Despite the temperature, sweat rolls down his forehead. “But I think, you should text your brother, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck finally lifts his head to look Mark in the eye and he’s surprised to see the utter calm of his expression, the firm set of his mouth. “Let him know that we’re coming.”

 

 

 

Donghyuck checks his phone to see seven messages from his brother and two missed calls from Johnny, and his forgotten promise churns in his gut. He sends a “i’m sry, mark’s back, coming over soon smth happened” to Taeyong’s texts (which had started worried and just grew more resigned) and figures that Johnny’s with him anyway.

He wishes they had Doyoung there to portal them straight to the flat, instead of having to walk. Jaemin is pressed in between Chenle and Jisung, while Jeno and Mark talk quietly behind them. Renjun has a comforting hand pressed against the small of Donghyuck’s back, but Donghyuck barely registers it as his legs take him back home. His eyes can’t leave the back of Jaemin’s pink head, his ridiculous earmuffs.

The ten minute walk feels like it took hours, and the light is on by the time they reach _Lee’s Natural Charms and Talismans_. Donghyuck can’t see the silhouettes of anyone inside, but he knows they’re in there.

The others move to let Donghyuck open the door, the wards and protective charms shifting as they recognise him, welcome him home. He gestures for the others to enter first, and waits to take Jaemin by the wrist before finally crossing the threshold.

The atmosphere in the shop is strange. Taeyong is stood in front of the counter, hair messy as if he had run his hands through it, and Johnny is at his side (as he always is) with his hand tight on his shoulder. It’s perhaps of no surprise to anyone that Doyoung is there as well, though Donghyuck cannot recall either Jeno or Mark texting him. But it’s difficult to keep things from Doyoung, even if they’d wanted to.

“Donghyuck,” Taeyong breathes, rushing to pull him into a hug. He presses their foreheads together, and Donghyuck fights the shudder that threatens to crawl through him. “I was so worried,” Taeyong says, “but Doyoung told me what happened.”

Taeyong turns to Jaemin and hugs him as well. Donghyuck doesn’t let go of his wrist. “Are _you_ okay, Jaemin?” Taeyong asks, and Jaemin huffs out an aborted laugh.

“I’m not sure,” he says, scratching his ear like a schoolboy in trouble. He’s almost bashful, under the attention of their friends and guardians. It’s such a juxtaposition with the Jaemin from earlier that Donghyuck doesn’t know what to do with the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You don’t have to tell us what you did,” Doyoung says, moving forward, always the voice of reason. “We know it’s confusing. But what I can’t figure out is - how did you know to touch it? Necromancy, it’s a dangerous magic, powerful. It’s no surprise that you developed so late…”

Doyoung trails off, thoughtful, but the word necromancy - hearing the actual word to confirm what had happened - turns Donghyuck’s mouth sour.

“Mark told me to,” Jaemin says simply, and Doyoung freezes.

“Mark?” Doyoung repeats, and he turns to face the boy in question.

“I knew he had to resurrect the fox. Jeno says I told him to. But I remember knowing it was the right time,” Mark says, the picture of calm. Next to Donghyuck, Taeyong presses a knuckle to his forehead.

“And what had to die in its place, Mark?” Doyoung asks. It’s obvious to Donghyuck that he’s fighting to keep the panic out of his voice.

“A rat,” Mark says calmly.

He’s met with a beat of silence, then a wave of emotion as everyone processes this information.

“It’s a trade?” Jisung asks timidly, and Johnny rubs a soothing hand against the kid’s shoulder.

“I knew it wasn’t consequential,” Mark starts, but Doyoung interrupts him.

“You don’t get to decide that, Mark,” he says sternly, more sternly than Donghyuck has ever heard him speak to Mark. “I know this isn’t your fault, but _God_ -”

“I can work with Jaemin now, you know!” Mark says, suddenly defensive. “I’m not saying that the rat’s life was worthless, or whatever, but it’s not as if we’re going to go around resurrecting everything we see! But I was Told that this was how it was going to happen!”

Donghyuck’s turtleneck is too tight around his windpipe. His hands are clammy and his palms twinge. He wrenches his hand from Jaemin’s wrist and walks quickly to the door leading to the kitchen.

“I’ll - be right back!” He says quickly before he disappears behind the door. He strides over to the kitchen island and slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, cradled between the barstools. He stares long and hard at the door, but can’t hear anything through it. He rests his head against the seat of the stool, and supposes the house has decided that he doesn’t need to hear the conversation anyway.

As Donghyuck stares as the door, it swings open, revealing a red-faced Jaemin.

“Geez,” he laughs, a little strangled. “You’d think it’d be me having a breakdown over this.”

Donghyuck can’t bring himself to laugh at that - or want to remind Jaemin how he’d cried in Donghyuck’s arms earlier - so he just huffs.

“Hey,” Jaemin says, expression suddenly serious. He walks cautiously over to where Donghyuck is sitting, hugging his knees to his chest. “Donghyuck. What’s the matter? I’m still me. Nothing’s changed.”

_Everything’s changed_ , Donghyuck wants to sob. He bites his tongue instead.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Jaemin continues, voice quiet and unsure. “I’m just like you guys, now. I’m not the odd one out anymore.”

“Please,” Jaemin says, taking Donghyuck’s hand. Donghyuck doesn’t know what he’s asking. He doesn’t even think Jaemin knows.

Donghyuck takes a breath and looks up, looks at Jaemin’s beautiful, beautiful face and hates himself.

“You’re still Jaemin,” Donghyuck says, and Jaemin’s relieved expression calms the sickening drum of his heart, just for a moment.

 

 

 

Taeyong offers to take Jaemin home, to explain everything to his grandparents, to make it clear that Jaemin is safe and ready to learn about his abilities under Doyoung and Mark. Johnny clasps a hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder as his friends file out of the flat one by one, and it’s not until they’re all gone does Donghyuck turn to tuck himself into the warmth of Johnny’s hoodie. Tears leak out of his eyes as Johnny hushes him, but Donghyuck refuses to cry. Jaemin was right - it _was_ a good thing, in a strange sort of way. But Donghyuck has long accepted his selfish streak, and he allows himself this moment of weakness - wishing that today had never happened.

That everything was the same as it was yesterday.

Johnny rests his cheek on the crown of Donghyuck’s head and sighs with his whole body.

“I know you’re upset,” Johnny starts, “and scared. But it’s going to be okay. I don’t need to be a witch to tell you that.”

Donghyuck laughs wetly at the irony. “I know it’ll work out. It’s just, it’s _just-_ ”

“Yeah,” Johnny says, “I know. I see it every day in your brother, Hyuckie. Sometimes it scares me too, but mostly it doesn’t. And I know it’s not exactly the same, it’s not a perfect analogy, but.”

Johnny pauses and Donghyuck can almost feel him pull the courage out of his heart with his inhale.

“But, I love your brother. And you love Jaemin. Fear is a weak emotion in the face of love, Donghyuck. You can get through this. You can adapt.”

Johnny sends Donghyuck upstairs to him room with a final hug and kiss to his forehead, just like the one his brother had planted on him that morning. Donghyuck climbs the stairs with feet made of lead, and falls onto his duvet with his clothes and shoes still on.

He kicks his boots off and quickly changes into a fresh set of pyjamas, wanting the entire day’s energy to get off him. The vines shrink back from the windowsill, and his sweet rose wilts under the heavy air.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck says to the room. He’s sorry for a lot of things. The flat is quiet for once, or maybe it’s just quieter without the extra six witches in it.

_Seven witches_ , Donghyuck corrects himself, and he has to close his eyes to escape the sinking feeling in his chest. He’s sorry for being selfish the most, he supposes, and he rolls to grab his phone from where he’d thrown it onto his nightstand.

 

**_From Jaeminnie <3_ **

_I hope you’re okay, Hyuckie_

 

_Taeyong is talking to grandma, can you come over tomorrow?_

 

_Sleep well_

 

_I love you_

 

Donghyuck groans and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, grief gnawing at his insides like a dog on a bone.

 

**_To Jaeminnie <3_ **

_Of course_

 

_Love you too_

 

Donghyuck types out “I’m sorry” before quickly deleting it and throwing his phone onto the carpet. He can deal with apologies tomorrow, but for now, he just wants sleep to carry him away. He’s rifling through his drawers for the bag dried lavender he keeps for sleepless nights when his door creaks open, and Donghyuck expects it to be Johnny, or maybe Taeyong if Doyoung portalled him back, but it’s neither.

The black cat leaps onto Donghyuck’s bed and curls around Donghyuck’s arm. It rubs its cheek along the palm of Donghyuck’s hand, and its big yellow eyes are wide and sad.

Donghyuck smiles, and it doesn’t feel forced. He curls his body around the familiar weight of his friend, a pair of parentheses on the pale yellow of Donghyuck’s sheets. His bedroom door clicks shut, and he sleeps.

 

**Author's Note:**

> lmk if you'd be interesting in reading a series in this universe!
> 
> come say hi!  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ncigbt) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/nclgbt)


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